


Things have changed, but it's worth it

by Arzani



Series: changing things (Clovis in the Accidental Warlord AU) [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Clovis' relationship with his fellow witchers, Emotional Growth, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and His Pack Series - inexplicifics, Panic Attacks, briefly, hurt!Clovis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: Things have changed for Clovis. He starts open up to Nina, works in the kitchen and that out of his free will, changes ... and then saves Ciri. He doesn't get away with it unscathed.Inspired by inexplicifics "The accidental Warlord and his Pack" series.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Clovis (The Witcher), Clovis (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Clovis (The Witcher)
Series: changing things (Clovis in the Accidental Warlord AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983590
Comments: 18
Kudos: 155





	Things have changed, but it's worth it

**Author's Note:**

> I said at the fic before this one, it's one year before Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen. But as I wrote this I realized the time line doesn't work for it, so scratch that.
> 
> It happens four years before Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen.
> 
> \------
> 
> Trigger Warning: Clovis has a small panic attack and gives up on living for a short moment. If that triggers you, this fic isn't for you even though there is a happy/hopeful ending and everything works out.

The thing was, he liked talking to Nina. It was easy and most of the time fun - sometimes also serious, but it never felt wrong, even if it was serious - and Clovis got so used to the scent of sunflower happiness, he never wanted to miss it again. It was strange how that thought came to him one day, unbidden, and decided to stay with him. But it was the truth and while he had no name for that feeling he accepted it as part of himself now. It fluttered under his skin, it made him smile… a lot more than he used to doing, and he felt content in Nina’s presence.

It was nice, is what it was and Nina didn’t seem to mind. Her scent never changed around him, always smelled of sunflower happiness and green grass and some faint honeyed bread. She smiled at him, laughed at his dry jokes, teased him and understood when he had a bad day, waking from nightmares, or thinking too much, or having spiraled back into the past.

She understood him, so very well. One day she just took him at the elbow, late in the evening and led him up towards the battlements. They watched the sun set and when she shivered next to him from the cold, Clovis tugged Nina closer to his body. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She was tall enough to do so.

It had been a bad day for him. He had dreamed of his father, had smelled the burned onion stench in his nose even though it wasn’t there and had needed to keep himself from thinking about it over and over again. He hadn’t talked much, hadn’t found the words. He had held his head in his hands at supper, trying to eat, but everything had tasted like ashes.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t noticed Rennes watching him with worried eyes, or how his father figure had reached for Nina when she approached and whispered something to her. All he knew was that Nina had taken his elbow and led him to the battlements and there they were.

“You know,” she said into the air, not looking at him but the reds and oranges and yellows and purples of the sky, “it’s really painful to watch you get lost in whatever happened in your past.”

Her words dragged him out of whatever fog he had gotten lost to. He harrumphed, wanted to protest, but Nina beat him to it by tilting her head to look at him. Her big eyes sparkled from the setting sun. Her hair bounced the light back and made it look almost fiery red. It took him by surprise to realize how beautiful he found this wonderous woman.

“I know that all of you witchers went through severe trauma, with those awful trials of yours and the harsh ways the path used to be and the monsters and everything… but it feels different with you. You look back and get lost, and when I told you of my past, you looked so, so angry…”

Clovis growled a little as he was brought back to the images of what had happened to Nina and her sisters. Pain and misery and men forcing their will onto them. “Never again,” he managed to get out. His arms pulled her a little closer. “Not letting that happen.”

A small smile slipped on her lips and when she spoke there was ernesty in her words. “I know.” A deep understanding that Clovis would protect her from all harm. “But I want to protect you, too.”

He made a choked noise and instinctively turned towards the width of the valley below them, to the slowly darker turning sky and sighed. Looking at her was too much. He didn’t know if he wanted someone else to carry his burden. As a witcher he was made to protect, not to be protected.

Soft fingers traced a scar on his cheek and urged him softly to look back into very gentle eyes.

“I’m no witcher. I can’t wield a sword, or a dagger and fight. I’m not made to kill monsters. But I can listen and if you let me I can pull you out of your past, whenever you get lost in it.”

Something inside of him pounded against the walls he had built around his heart. They pounded and pounded and shook his being, until they wormed their way up towards his throat. In the end they fell out as words and he talked about his father, his mother, the way he had believed what his father had told him until he had met her. He talked about being a child surprise, of Rennes taking him to become a witcher, of walking the path and making being an asshole into his armor. He talked and talked, stilted, jumping from here to there because his thoughts just didn’t settle on one point. But he patiently answered every question Nina had and he let her hold him, when he shuddered and fought the scent of burnt onion, and gratefully breathed in her sunflower happiness. When he finally was done, they both sat on the cold floor, arms wrapped around each other and shaking a little from not only the cold. The sun had set, the stars hung in the sky and the moon shone brightly.

“I think we should go to bed,” Nina whispered, but when she tried to stand her knees buckled slightly. Clovis caught her and because Nina knew him intimately by now - there was nothing to add to know him even better - he swept her into his arms.

“I’m not sure you’ll walk anywhere tonight,” he teased, delighted by the bubbling laugh that fell from her lips.

“My noble witcher,” she said, yawned and snuggled into his chest.

“What happened to ‘noble asshole?’” he asked, as he carried her down the winding steps into the courtyard and towards the keep.

“You’re no asshole anymore,” she murmured, blinking hard against the tiredness that gripped her, but lost the fight rapidly. He shook his head and smiled fondly when he realized Nina had already fallen asleep. When he tiptoed into the servants’ quarters, as silent as the wind to not wake the others, he wondered when he had lost his heart.

He wondered when witchers had started to gain the ability to lose their hearts.

* * *

With his arms full of plates, and Nina putting another two onto the little tower, Clovis wondered why they needed so many cutlery. On the path they usually had a bowl, a spoon and some knives and here, in Kaer Morhen, there were plates and bowls and more bowls and tablets and everything had to be cleaned. All the time, after every meal. The sheer amount of it never ceased to baffle him. He hadn’t had the faintest idea about the amount of work the kitchen had to do, until he had started to help.

In the beginning, a month or so ago, it had been just once here and there, that he carried the heavy bowls for Nina, because she had the tendency to overwork her arms and take too much. He couldn’t watch her wobble her way down to the kitchen and broken bowls didn’t help anyone. Also, it added to the benefit of being able to talk to her, without disturbing her work. She was a servant of Kaer Morhen, and proudly so, wearing her medaillon for everyone to see. She had duties she didn’t shrink from.

So what had started of occasional help after supper had turned into a regularity. While he had training after breakfast and sometimes was needed elsewhere after dinner, the evenings were free for witchers to use as they prefered. So what, if he prefered to help in the kitchen? He was spending time with Nina and it was worth it.

Also, he just couldn’t watch three or four of the woman (as there weren’t really any men in the kitchens, and didn’t that say a lot about how things were still viewed all around the continent, that even in Kaer Morhen they only found like two young lads who were willing to work the kitchens?) struggle to lift the big basin full of dirty dishwater, when he easily could do it by himself, without breaking a sweat. There was so much cutlery and bowls, they had to refill the basin at least three times per meal, to clean everything. At least there was some plumping in the kitchens, or else they would have had to walk to a well, too. Not to mention that before he had started to make himself a regular occurence in the kitchens, the women had to heat the water one by one in a big kettle and that took forever. Now, he used Igni and that was that.

Even Marlene had stopped giving him questioning looks by now. In the beginning the servants and kitchen girls hadn’t dared to talk freely while he was close, but by now they chatted away - they even chatted with him, like he was an old friend, and it filled him with so much warmth. He learned a lot about their lives, too. How they had become part of Kaer Morhen and what had happened to them beforehand. A lot of their stories involved being saved by a witcher at some point in their lives. He would have never guessed.

It also filled him with a strange sense of satisfaction to ponder what his father would think of him, seeing him like this, working away in the kitchen, carrying bowls. His father would rage… and Clovis dared to think he couldn’t care less.

* * *

They stood in the Great Hall, almost empty except for some of his witcher brothers working above in the ceiling. He could hear Aiden and Lambert bicker, Dragonfly groan and some of the other Cats gesture and give directions. He glanced at them, only paying half of his attention on what happened almost straight above his head.

It was damn good the Cats had a preference of always climbing up the rafters. Else they wouldn’t have noticed one of the wooden beams had started to mold. Their nose helped to detect mold almost instantly, but the great hall was always filled with scents from their meals and each other, that it had overpowered the smell of rot. Also, it had only been beginning to mold. But as the beam was a supporting one, they needed to exchange it. Hence, the work in the ceiling.

“Clovis, are you with me?” Nina asked, smirking lightly, as she put another bowl on the little tower in his hands. He blinked and pulled himself out of his thoughts and back towards what happened in front of him.

“Yes, fully here,” he replied and then spied around the bowls to see how many more there were on the long table that seated the wolf school. “Are we good to go?”

“Only the Wolf’s seat, and Eskel’s and little Ciri’s left,” she replied, already on her way back to get the last few pieces. Clovis hummed at that and watched Nina walk, a very faint swing to her steps. Her curls bounced just a little on her shoulders.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he watched her take one bowl, then another and then put them back on the table, to reach towards Ciri’s empty stool. It made a faint noise as she pushed it back, then ducked and crawled under the table. Confused he placed his own bowls on the next best surface, to have a better look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Found…,” Nina muttered, then crawled back up and straightened. In her hand a not-so-white-anymore white wolf stuffed animal. “...this.” She held it up with one hand, looking confused. It made Clovis chuckle.

He walked closer, taking in the sight of the woman he adored so much holding a stuffed animal very gently. The stuffed wolf was very gray in several places and had a little crooked snout, but otherwise was very cute. Nina met him halfways.

“It’s the cub’s,” Clovis said as an explanation. “She must have forgotten it.”

“Well, we can’t give it back to her like this. It’s all dusty and dirty from the floor,” Nina answered him, but Clovis just shrugged. He doubted the cub would wait until it was washed and dried to take it back. The last few days she had taken the little wolf everywhere, much to Eskel’s amusement and Geralt’s silent annoyance.

“Better let the Wolf know it’s here, though,” he said. Nina hummed, in thought, when one of the doors to the Great Hall opened. It was directly in Clovis’ line of sight, which was why he recognized her instantly.

“Or we’d give it back to the cub directly,” he mused and nodded for Nina to turn around. Which she did.

“Oh,” she murmured but smiled, when she spotted the little girl walk into the Great Hall with bleary eyes. It wasn’t that late yet, but late enough for six-year-old cubs to be in bed. Ciri wore a warm woolen sleepshirt. Her hair was slightly mussed and she looked around searchingly, but it was clear she was tired.

“Cub,” Clovis said and then realized Ciri didn’t hear him over the commotion from above. She looked at her seat, walking towards it, obviously not spotting Clovis, or Nina either. “Hey, Cub,” Clovis said again, louder, and this time Ciri seemed to hear him because she looked at them. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Nina holding her stuffed wolf, waving its paw.

“Wolfie,” she shouted and started turning to them. That was when above, someone - and Clovis didn’t have time to actually figure who - yelled a loud “Fuck!” Looking up he saw a big part of the beam some of his fellow witchers were working on, crack and fall down. Someone - probably Aiden - jumped off of it, forming Aard to direct the beam away from the other Cats standing under the working site.

They hadn’t recognized Ciri was in the Great Hall, again. Ciri who stood rooted to the spot, watching a beam thrice her size falling into her direction. A beam that would crush her - Geralt’s precious cub. Precious cub to all of them.

No!

He didn’t think. He seized his distance towards Ciri, realized, even with his Witcher speed he wouldn’t make it, if he didn’t  _ do _ something. So he pushed himself from the floor, hoping he wouldn’t do more harm than good and formed Aard himself. The pressure shot him forward and like a lightning bolt he darted towards Ciri. His hands grabbed her around the middle, shielding her head with his body as he slithered on the floor. At least until something heavy pressed his hips, part of his torso and one of his legs down.

For a moment so much pain engulfed him, it took his breath away and black circled his vision. Then Ciri screamed.

* * *

The walls shook slightly and Clovis’ medaillon vibrated around his chest, but it didn’t register as pain engulfed him. That he hadn’t lost consciousness, yet, could only mean that his adrenalin level was so high he was in really deep shit. But even that didn’t register, because he still held a crying and screaming Ciri in his arms, pressed towards his chest. Sweet, mischievous, brilliant cub that always made everyone smile and was so happy and such a light in everyone’s life. He tried to move, but another wave of pain shot through him and he winced.

Somehow, the noise seemed to stop Ciri’s tears as she pushed herself a little from his chest to stare at him. Big, green, watery eyes looked into his yellow ones with shock and fear. But trusting too. So much trust.

“Ssh,” he soothed her, separating his mind from his pain and the noise and shouts around him, like when he meditated and had to separate his thoughts from his body, to find rest. “Are you hurt?” he asked, forcing himself to smile despite everything. All that mattered was Ciri, and nothing else.

The girl shook her head, still clinging to him and Clovis felt relief flood him when he realized that despite being half buried under a beam, Ciri wasn’t. She was safe. Geralt’s cub was  _ safe _ .

“Clovis?” someone shouted. Someone very familiar. Someone, whose voice Clovis still filtered despite everything. “Ciri? Clovis?!”

Then Nina appeared around the beam, and when she saw them all blood drained from her face. “By the gods,” she murmured, hand still clutching Ciri’s stuffed wolf like she had forgotten she was holding it. In his arms, Ciri’s eyes filled with tears again.

“Hey, hey cub,” Clovis murmured. “Look, Nina brought you Wolfie.” He said, the last sentence a little louder, for Nina to hear. He ignored his medaillon that vibrated again, ignored everything other than Ciri and Nina. His pain, the noise, the shouts, the commotion, the fact that he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. Everything other than the two people close to him.

“Wolfie?” Ciri asked with a weak teary voice. Something in Nina’s face changed, shock swiped away to be replaced by determination and a small smile. She lowered herself to her knees and offered Ciri her stuffed animal.

“Yes, look, I have him here. You think you can let go of Clovis and take a hold of Wolfie? Wolfie’s really scared right now, but that’s okay, because I think we all are a little. It’s okay to be scared sometimes. It’s why we have others to help us, so we won’t be scared anymore.”

It took a moment, but then Ciri let go of Clovis and sat up, to reach for her stuffed wolf, which Nina handed over willingly. A moment later she pressed herself against Nina’s chest. Blackness crawled back into Clovis’ vision. He faintly realized a female voice giving instructions. Maybe Yen, maybe Triss. But only when he heard Ciri sob “Papa” he allowed the darkness to engulf him.

Ciri was safe.

* * *

Everything was dull and foggy. It took several moments for him to wake and to even realize he was awake. Light filtered through his half cracked eyes, guiding him back to reality, yet he felt like he was under water. He was dully aware that he should feel pain, but there was just numbness instead. It was odd, to say the least. He was a witcher, he always was aware of his body and his surroundings, at least partially. His senses were finely tuned to what happened in close proximity.

Panic started to creep up in his throat.

He raided his memory to what had happened, while he forced his eyes to open. The Great Hall, the repairings, Ciri!

As the memories came crashing back his eyes flew open and his mind wanted him to jump up and check on the cub, but his body didn’t move. Nothing moved except his head. He tried again, tried to lift his body, tried to move his fingers, tried to make his muscles work. He tried but he couldn’t.

Panic washed over him like a wave, drowning him. As fear engulfed him, he willed himself to… do something, but all that he managed was to trash his head from left to right and back. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t think clearly, he didn’t even see anything, as he threw his head in every direction. He felt trapped.

He was a witcher. He needed his body to function, to do his job, to protect people. If he couldn’t move, wouldn’t it have been better if the beam had simply…

“Clovis. Clovis, please, Clovis, stop!” someone sobbed.

Not someone.

He turned his head to where the voice was coming from and willed his panic to subside enough that he could focus. Because the voice sounded so distressed and it smelled like bitter pain and he needed to protect. He needed it to stop.

“Nina,” he managed to say with a painfully dry voice. She leaned over his torso, her locks falling into her face while tears slid down her cheeks. He wanted to brush them away, but when he tried to lift his arm… the realisation that he simply couldn’t move crashed onto him again, bitter painful misery.

He was useless.

Turning his head again, he looked away from her, not being able to bear to watch these big, brown eyes teary and being unable to sooth. His gaze fell on Lambert, who probably had been sitting next to Coёn on the mantle of the hearth. But by now both of them were standing. In an armchair Triss lay, obviously exhausted and asleep, unbothered by the commotion he had caused.

His eyes met Lambert, who perched on him, for once not saying a thing. Misery was sour in the air, the smell penetrating his nose. He knew it was Nina’s misery, but he just couldn’t look and not touch.

For one last time he tried to lift his hand and felt his body wanting. He couldn’t. He gave up.  _ He gave up... _

“Fuck,” Lambert suddenly cursed and even Coёn escaped a “Shit”. Too stunned, but not really caring too much, because some part of his brain had shut down, preparing himself and his body for the inevitable - a witcher that couldn’t move was a dead witcher. He was useless. He couldn’t live like that - he didn’t bother to close his eyes like he wanted to. He just stared straight ahead.

Then he felt someone touch his hand. “Clovis, look at me,” Nina whispered from the other side - and why did he feel her hand on his, when he shouldn’t? His head spun around, eyes wide, while Lambert shouted. “Triss, wake up.  _ Wake up! _ ”

“You’re not paralized,” Nina whisper-shouted, so much emotion and fear and worry in her voice and her scent and her everything. But he saw her holding his hand and not letting go. He felt it. “Triss put you under a healing spell. You’ll be fine.”

His brain needed a moment to register Nina’s words, but then he sighed, so loudly he was astonished of himself for a moment, as all the panic and tension left him.

“Fuck,” he said, and then laughed, breathless. “Fuck, fuck!” A tear rolled down his cheek. He would be able to move… when he heard Triss curse as she stirred and Coёn approached like a lightning bolt. His instincts kicked in, not afraid and yet - his head turned, the only part of his body that could - and his eyes widened when he smelled the anger roll off of Coёn like thunder. Before Clovis could even register what happened, a hand slapped him across the face.

Gentle, patient, even-tempered Coёn had slapped him. All he could do was laugh, shocked. Nina screamed, a short, quick, scream, and Triss - who had obviously fully woken up by now - shouted. “Would you stop molesting my patient? Fucking witchers!” He’d never heard so much venom in Triss’ voice. He still stared at Coёn, who looked into his eyes, a blazing expression on his face.

“Never ever do that again,” Coёn whispered, harshly - too quiet for Nina or Triss to hear, but he did and Lambert probably did, too, because Clovis heard his wolf brother hiss in agreement. “You have people now who need you. Things have changed, for good. You hear me!”

And the thing was, Clovis knew what Coёn meant. He had no idea how he must have smelled or how his face must have looked, but they obviously had glimpsed what he had considered even for just a moment. Suddenly the thought scared him to let go so easily, when he could feel Nina’s hand in his, the sting of the slap on his face, and Lambert’s scent so obviously distressed, it was baffling.

Things had changed for good, and witchers didn’t die anymore, when they couldn’t move. Geralt of Kaer Morhen, the Warlord of the North, had seen to it.

He nodded slightly, for Coёn to see, and then said witcher was shoved out of the way and Triss took his place.

“Fuck off, you fool. If you have dislodged something, I’m gonna slowly but thoroughly melt your bones and put them back together, so you can feel what it’s like to have every bone inside of you broken,” she hissed into Coёn’s face, until a small voice from somewhere Clovis couldn’t see, murmured.

“Aunt Triss?”

And that voice made Clovis choke, because that was “Ciri?” Someone scrambled and a moment later a very tousled, very tired looking cub came into his view, her eyes red rimmed, like she had cried a lot. “Cub!”

She ran towards him and then came to a halt abruptly. “You’re awake,” she stammered, obviously suppressing tears. “Aunt Triss said I’m not allowed to touch you, but…”

It made Clovis smile. It was good to see her unharmed. It was good to know it had all been worth it. He had forgotten for just a moment that it had been  _ worth _ it.

“You can hug his chest, very carefully,” Triss murmured from the sides, defeated.

“Come here, cub,” Clovis invited her and then he felt small arms tug around his neck. Tears hit his skin.

“Thank you for saving me,” Ciri murmured into his shoulder.

“Always cub. Always.” Which he meant. Very sincerely. It would break Geralt to lose his cub, and they needed Geralt. Too much had changed. Things had changed for the better, and Clovis wondered if anyone had ever told Geralt as such. He bore the most of the changes on his shoulders. They needed him, all of them, all of Kaer Morhen’s witchers, and humans and everyone in the Northern Kingdoms. Clovis needed him, for he had obviously changed, too.

“Now, now, Cub,” Triss stepped behind Ciri and placed a gentle hand on her back. She clung to Clovis and it stung a bit that he couldn’t hug her back, because having her near her like this felt nice. But for now the panic that had engulfed him before at such a thought, didn’t dare to come back. Slowly Ciri let go of him, sniffling slightly. “How about you take Coёn…” Triss looked around and then harrumphed a little “... and probably Lambert and tell your Papa that Clovis’ awake?”

“I can do that,” Ciri replied and Triss nodded.

Next to him he felt Nina move to get up, too, but Triss shushed her. “You can stay, girl.”

So Nina stayed and Clovis could still feel her holding his hand. When he looked at her she still looked worried, and smelled a little distressed but nothing like before. It calmed him. There was sunflower happiness and green grass hidden under all the distress.

When Lambert, Coёn and Ciri had left, Triss rounded his bed and crouched down next to where Nina sat, so he didn’t need to divide his attention. They looked strangely alike, both of them, with their curls framing their faces.

“Now, listen closely,” Triss started and Clovis tilted his head just slightly, to give a hint he was listening without interrupting her speech. “I had to reset almost all of your bones down your torso. Even with your witcher healing it will take some days for them to mend back together and until then we can’t risk to move and dislodge any of them. Which is why I immobilized you. If they will heal nicely, which I think they will because I am good at what I’m doing, then you will be fine and able to go back to your witcher strength and mobility with time and training. So, when I lift the immobilization spell on your chest and arms, will you promise me not to make any sudden movements?”

“Yes, of course,” Clovis answered, astonished at the sheer power Triss possesed. He knew she was a powerful sorceress, but to be reassured he would gain no handicap from the stunt he had taken left him in sheer bafflement.

_ Women are to mend, and to clean and _ … he suppressed a manic laugh. Fuck, his father had had no idea how fucking amazing women could be. He had been such a dolt all his life, to believe such ridiculous words. But now he knew better.

“Very well. Nina, if he tries something, chain him,” Triss said and stood. Her words made Nina laugh.

“How am I supposed to chain a witcher?” she asked, half laughing half choking on her laugh. It felt a little bit like madness, but honestly what was his life - any witcher’s life - without some madness in it. Especially since the whole Warlord of the North thing.

“I’m sure you’ll get creative, girl.” She lifted her hands and placed them on Clovis’ shoulder. “Now.”

And suddenly he felt his arms and shoulders and torso prickle, like ants were running up and down inside them. Pain flashed through him, too, but not enough to hinder him from being able to squeeze Nina’s hand in his, that had never stopped touching.

“Fuck,” left his mouth, astonished, and he lifted Nina’s hand, pulling her arm towards his head. “Thank you for staying with me,” he whispered and pressed a kiss on her palm.

It made Nina blush and Triss chuckle. “I’ll take my leave, now. Give him the potions, girl, like I instructed. I’m in my bed, sleeping, if you need me.”

She turned, her dress swishing. Before she could vanish through the door, though, Clovis stopped her. “Triss?” She turned, eyeing him expectantly. “Thank you.”

With a fond smile, she left them alone.

* * *

The next few days passed mostly the same way. In the mornings, Triss would see to his slowly healing bones - slowly for him, not slowly in human terms, he was reminded whenever he complained. Someone from the kitchens fetched him breakfast and then stayed, to keep him updated on the whereabouts of the keep. He learned he had been out for almost three days, which shocked him first. Three fucking days… fuck, the worry everyone must have gone through. He pushed the thought away.

It was nice to have people to talk to and the girls from the kitchens came up, to bring him food three times a day and always stayed at least a little while for a chat. It sometimes still baffled him how comfortable they had become around him. Sera liked to tease him and remind him of his words, whenever he complained about it mock-indignantly. She didn’t let him live it down that he had insulted her craft and now fixed most of his clothes whenever the need arose. She did it wonderfully, too. Sometimes she took her work to mend in his room, to be able to talk to him.

She wasn’t the only servant not working in the kitchen who came to visit him. Nina’s sisters flocked in regularly, too, and only Lila worked in the kitchens with Nina. He only now registered how familiar he had become with them. It was mostly due to Nina, though she assured him that they wouldn’t treat him as nicely as they did would he still behave like an asshole.

Maybe she was right. Having to stay in his rooms for days and weeks showed Clovis how many people inside Kaer Morhen really cared for him.

After supper he usually had the company of one witcher or another, next to the servant girls that came to entertain him. Lambert, he understood. He always had been good with Lambert, set aside the times both of them behaved like the prickly assholes they could be. Rennes, too, would check on him at least once a day. Which yes, made sense to Clovis. But Aiden, too, checked in on him - and apologized for not realizing Ciri had been in the Great Hall, so much so that Clovis had to shut him up - and then there were Coёn and Ealdred, Esra of the Bears he sometimes spared with, Aubry and Eskel and … well it baffled him.

Ciri usually would stick her head in after her magic lessons with Yennefer and had placed her stuffed white wolf into the crook of his neck at one point “so he wouldn’t get lonely in the night.” As if he could… because Nina had barely left his side, staying with him through all of it, the painful moments, when he got frustrated, stuck even when his moods turned sour as he was bored and most important of all, through the panic that sometimes overcame when he woke and couldn’t move his legs and it took a moment to remember why that was. No one complained that she didn’t work for the time she was with him. And when Marlene had even come up to assure them that it was fine, Clovis had stopped to ponder it. Nina was close and with him, and he was grateful for it. So grateful that sometimes he wondered how his heart hadn’t exploded with the fullness and warmth that emotion brought.

* * *

The moon was shining through the window of his room, Nina sleeping peacefully next to him, when his door opened. He turned his head, pupils wide, because the fire had died down a while ago. Staying in bed, sleeping during the day, when the pain became too much, had fucked up his sleeping schedule and he didn’t look forward to righten it. That would take some time. Well, all of the healing process would take time. He hadn’t any illusions about it.

A broad figure stepped in, his hair shimmering silver in the moonlight.

“Wolf,” Clovis said, silently.

“You’re awake,” was his answer, a quiet murmur.

“Too much sleep during the day. Fucks up the best sleeping schedule,” Clovis mused and watched Geralt walk in on silent feet, lowering himself into the chair close to the bed. This close Clovis could see the exhaustion on his wolf brother’s face. “Wanna change? Triss makes nasty sleeping potions. You look like you need it.”

That made Geralt chuckle. “Mhm.”

“Eloquent as ever, Wolf.”

Geralt shrugged his shoulders, but amusement played on his features. For a moment they were quiet, then the silence was broken.

“Thank you, Clovis,” Geralt said and the sincerity was palpable. The words felt heavy and Clovis had to shake his head to push the weight away.

“Not for that. The cub’s very precious to all of us,” he said and then, after a moment of arranging his thoughts, “She makes you better. Happier… not so grumpy all the time.” He sighed, and then added with a smirk, just to tease. “Not better, you’re fucking noble all the time, anyways.”

Geralt chuckled at that, almost fondly - and Clovis had no idea if he wasn’t imaging that. It was dark after all. Should someone ask him, even though no one would because there was no one here, except a sleeping Nina, he would blame it on the moonlight. Fucking, scary Warlord, his ass.

“Not the only noble one here,” Geralt said, with his rumbly voice. It sounded like a laugh. “Heard you helped the servant girls settle in.”

That made him laugh and he showed his teeth. “Must be my charms and my very eloquent, polite words.”

“Probably,” Geralt rumbled, lips quirked in amusement.

Silence fell again, but it was… nice. Before all this Warlord business, Clovis hadn’t spent much time with Geralt. They both had been on the Path most of the year and only crossed ways occasionally… and in winter the keep was big enough to stay out of each other’s way. He’d been too much of an asshole and Geralt… well Geralt had been noble and the good boy and all that schmuck. But now… it didn’t feel like there was such a distance between them anymore.

“Things have changed, haven’t they?” Clovis said, letting his thoughts filter out unbidden. His gaze seized on Nina, sleeping peacefully next to him. She was beautiful like this, with sleep-mussed hair and softly breathing, head in the crook of his arm.

Geralt followed his line of sight, eyes going soft. He hummed and smiled, a real smile, not just a quirk of his lips. “Seems so.”

Looking back to Geralt, Clovis took in the features of his brother, his fellow wolf, his lord. Without him he wouldn’t be lying here, holding someone in his arms he obviously loved - even though he’d never known what love really was. He’d never know what it meant to have a family that cared for him. He’d still think his father’s words had been right. He’d probably be somewhere on the path, cold and miserable, without coin and angry at something or someone. He’d be lonely.

He really wasn’t lonely anymore.

“Thank you, Geralt,” he whispered, loud enough for the other to hear, but quietly enough that if Geralt wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard, he could. But Geralt just hummed, understanding in his eyes. He also stayed, long into the night, until the first sunrays peaked over the mountain hills. Dawn broke, Geralt had fallen asleep in the chair and Clovis realized that, yes, all of this, every broken bone and all the pain - and not just from saving Ciri - really had been worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very very awful at tagging, so if you think I should tag something else, please let me know <3
> 
> and thank you for all the support!


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